Tag Archives: humor

A green Red Claw?

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Ten years ago Maine debuted its first NBA G league basketball team.

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And naturally its mascot was a lobster. The lobster art has morphed over the years…

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But it has remained a red cooked lobster. Hence the name… ‘Red Claws’.

Mainers. We’re so clever, it hurts.

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Okay, so sometimes the mascot looks more like a demonic ant….

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A demonic ant on steroids.

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But ya gotta admit, the dude’s got game.

Everything was going well, and in the ten years since it’s inception… the team has won three division titles. But in 2019?

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The Boston Celtics bought our team. And this year?

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They not only renamed our team the Maine Celtics….

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They turned our red lobster green!

The Green Claws?

That’s just wrong. In so many ways.

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Don’t touch my weed.

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I think we’ve established Lord Dudley Mountcatten is fan of the chronic.

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He spends many happy hours face down in his kitty cope sack.

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And I spend many joint creaking hours picking it up off the floor after he flings it with intoxicated feline abandon.

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Stoned? Probably.

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But woe to the person who tries to come between the Lord and his herb.

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His Lordship is not above shredding skin to keep possession.

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Who remembers these?

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I admit I’m old enough to remember a penny candy store in my hometown. It was pure heaven for a child and the experience went something like this:

1. Your mother gave you a dollar.

2. You jumped on your banana seat Schwinn (with glittered streamers hanging off the handlebars because yeah, girlfriend… you rocked!) and pedaled like mad until you reached a hole in the wall shop by the railroad station.

( It was next to the Wo Lee Laundry run by your friend Wanda’s family. They lived upstairs and her mother didn’t speak a word of English. Poor Wanda missed a lot of childhood events helping her family clean rich people’s clothes. But it’s okay, don’t feel badly. Wanda was one smart cookie and graduated Harvard Med with honors. Somebody’s probably washing her clothes now. 😊)

3. You breathlessly entered the tiny store and the bell over the rickety old door clanged loudly enough to raise the dead. An elderly man hobbled out from the back room and took up position behind a miraculous display case filled with nothing but large jars of candy. He whipped out a small paper bag and said… go!

4. You spent a tense 10-15 minutes getting the mix just right. A dollars worth of penny candy was 100 pieces! 10 Bottle Caps or 15? 5 Pixie Sticks or 5 Razzles? Malted milk balls or Bit O Honey? Chuckles or Necco wafers? These were important decisions.

Most of the candies from my youth are gone, for which my teeth and hips are probably thankful…. but I saw this ad on Facebook last week and damned if it didn’t take me back to the mouth watering anticipation of having a bag filled with 100 pieces of customized candy.

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The original gummy candy. Why fish? Why not….

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If you’ve ever sucked on a root beer barrel? You know the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain. To hell with S&M kinky sex, slicing your tongue open on a razor sharp sliver of this sugar filled deliciousness is the very definition of ‘so bad, it’s good’.

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Nope. Those putrid pillowy abominations never made it into my bag. Uh uh.

🤨

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Lots of kids loved these, but I’m anti nut and always took a hard pass.

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Melt in your mouth little pockets of goodness right there. If I’m ever lucky enough to see them on the hostess stand as I exit a restaurant? I make everyone grab a handful and fill my purse with the bounty. Some opportunities can not be overlooked.

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This shouldn’t be so difficult.

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Forget toilet paper and gas shortages, the really rare items these days are clearly pool tables.

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As I mentioned in a previous post, the husband wants to replace our gifted (read free) inferior table with something bigger, better and more stylish.

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The problem is, in the entire state of Maine? I can only find 3 stores that sell what we’re looking for and none of them have inventory. They all told us to look online, find what we wanted and then come back to place an order.

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While we’ve narrowed it down to the classic style with tapered legs and leather ball baskets, choosing a table online means not being able to feel the quality or take it for a test drive. Heck, they all look good in the pictures…. which is why my husband has had me scouring Craig’s List and Facebook marketplace. We’ve checked out quite a few used tables and none of them have been worthy. Until I found this beauty.

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We drove an hour and a half to see it. The husband took it for a test drive.

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It was custom made in Maine of solid oak, lovingly cared for and best of all? Cheap! Husband wanted to change the felt color, but liked the table and was ready to fork over payment then and there…. but I suggested we check what it would cost to have the table professionally moved and set up in the Barn Mahal first…. and that’s when the whole thing came crashing down. We got estimates from 4 different places and the lowest was… are you ready?

$1,950.

To. Move. A. Table.

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I understand it has to be disassembled and reassembled, but damn Sam. Why on earth would I pay $900 for a used table, twice that to move it and probably another $500+ to change the felt…for a total of $3,350… when I can buy a brand new table, including delivery, set up, choice of style, wood finish and felt color, plus a set of pro balls for $3,500?

I wouldn’t. So I guess we’ll be shopping online and hoping for the best.

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Let’s play!

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Yes, again. Stop complaining.

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I’m currently binge watching Showtime’s original series Billions.

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It basically has two main characters…. the ruthless billionaire hedge fund king and the twisted US Attorney who wants to take him down. Both of them are a combination of good and bad, but I’m afraid if it comes to a choice between being a billionaire and a government employee?

River will take door number one and enjoy luxury homes, private jets, a kick ass yacht and the Lamborghini every time.

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What’s blooming today?

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Salvia, geraniums and New Guinea impatiens are blooming in my little stone wall garden bed, but unfortunately now and then I find a hole.

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See the empty space on the left? Thank you Mr. Woodchuck, please tip your server. 😡

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Happily my strawberry shortcake foxglove is on the list of woodchuck avoided plants.

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It’s also rhododendron time.

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And this year, they’re glorious.

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Every season I tell myself to cut them back, then they give me a riotous bloom and I cave.

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This year I planted three tick weed (coreopsis) behind the marigolds. Sadly, they must have been on the ‘favorite woodchuck snack’ list because one morning I looked out and they were munched down to nubs. Solution?

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Giant headed yellow marigolds. They’re not my favorite flower, but they’re not a woodchuck’s either … so that’s a win.

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As is this pink cosmos. Such a happy flower. I smile just looking at them.

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It’s not too late…

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Today is Father’s Day and it’s time to honor dear old dad. The man who’s always got your back. The grill master. The king of lame jokes. The guy who thinks he rocks that Members Only jacket. And what better way to say you love and appreciate dad than a gift?

Okay, so the father in question doesn’t actually have human children? No problem. I’ve got you covered.

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Coffee mugs from your furry four footed overlord.

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And in case you think we’re too cat-centric here at River’s World…

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There. Proof positive there’s a perfect gift for every dad.

Bizarre, but true.

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Because my blog is nothing if not educational.

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I shall never look at Peter Rabbit the same way again.

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Nope.

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I know you tried that, because I did as well. But the fact that it’s called a weenus? That’s the real headline.

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This is extremely good news… and may be cause for celebration. Cheers!

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Not being a mother, I admit this next one freaked me out a little.

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What! I’m getting tiny Sam Elliot and Wilford Brimley visuals here…

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May I just say… eww. Is the womb so cold a place every fetus has to don a fur coat they later consume? This falls under the category ‘I actually wish I didn’t know that.’

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I have never been to Disneyland. Point of fact? I never want to go to Disneyland. Alive… or dead. Though I’m sure it would probably be less annoying if I could haunt that obnoxious mouse ear wearing family from DuBuque.

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Our local.

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This is the interior of our local pub.

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Small, rustic and not at all fancy. But the food is fresh and tasty, the drinks are strong and cheap. What more could you want?

We’re regulars and feel good supporting a local business. Our town has never had a pub before so the owners had to fight long and hard for licensing as well as acceptance. Some of the older residents of our little hamlet thought a bar would attract a bad element, but this small establishment is just as likely to be serving lunch to a troop of Girl Scouts as they are the functioning alcoholics. Lawyers and fisherman. Bankers and construction workers. Hippies and veterans. You never who will sit on the neighboring stool.

We’ve met more locals here in the past 2 years than we have living in this town for 19. And it should come as no surprise that when we introduce ourselves and explain where we live? Everyone always says… oh, the big red barn with the nice porch. Sure!

And if you’re wondering just how rural my town can be? Take a look at who pulled up the other day…

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🤣

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I love my town

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What passes for news in my little corner of the world might seem silly to some….

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But I like to think of our Facebook page as the New York Times of happy living.

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You’ll be glad to know this crisis was averted.

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I’m not sure if this a thing in your area, but in Maine late spring means it’s time to thin and divide the perennials. Some people sell them in their front lawn, but more often than not the bounty is simply shared.

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Go home Freyr. I don’t care how tasty the tuna is down the road.

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That’s one fluffy little cock.

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Damn. No one ever drops roosters off at our house.

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